For The Memories
by Seanchaidh
Summary: Set in year 7, the Head Boy & Head Girl have been chosen. How will they face their last year at Hogwarts & how will the choice affect the trio. This was begun before book 6 was published & thus contains spoilers for books 1 to 5 only.
1. Chapter 1

For The Memories

Chapter 1

The Great Hall was hushed as golden plates were cleared and Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, stood up to speak. His long fingers curled round the edge of the podium before him and he surveyed the students through over the half-moon spectacles resting on his long, thin nose.

"As you all know," he began, "activities this summer have led to a delay in the process of appointing a new Head Boy and Girl to lead our school through the new academic year. It is my intention, therefore, to do so now. Before I make the announcement, however, it strikes me that some of you may wish to know how the candidates for these positions are selected. An explanation, it seems, is in order.

"The selection of Head Boy and Head Girl goes back to when our four founders ran the school themselves and, therefore, to avoid arguments because a house never got selected, or always got selected, a rotational system was installed. Head Boy and Head Girl must come from different houses and these houses change in a set order that has been in place since the time of the four founders themselves. Every fifth year there is a free choice, performed by the sorting hat. The last Head Boy to be pulled out of that hat was, as I'm sure some of you remember, a certain Mr Percy Weasley. This year we are still using the rotational system and the designated houses are, for the position of Head Girl, Gryffindor, and, for the position of Head Boy, Slytherin.

"I believe that should fulfil the need for explanation and I shall now get on with the announcement. When the names of our new Head Boy and Girl are announced, would they please come up to the front to receive their badges, then follow Professor McGonagall through the side door to receive their instructions."

Professor McGonagall stood up on queue and moved over to the door Harry and the other three Triwizard Tournament champions had gone through three years ago.

"Well," said Professor Dumbledore, "Ladies first: our Head Girl this year, chosen from Gryffindor House, is: Miss Hermione Granger."

There was a huge roar of applause from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables as Hermione made her way up to the front of the hall, received her badge from Dumbledore and proceeded over to the door where Professor McGonagall stood.

"The Head Boy this year," Professor Dumbledore said loudly, cutting through the cheers and reducing them to a sullen silence, "chosen from Slytherin house, is:" the headmaster paused, focussing his gaze clearly on Slytherin table, who were sitting quietly, but smugly, "Mr Draco Malfoy."

Again the hall erupted into cheers as Draco also went forward to receive his badge, then joined Hermione by the door. Professor McGonagall opened it and led them through.

"Wait here," she said sharply, "and I would hate to have to begin the new school year by deducting points from our Head Boy and Girl for fighting!"

As she disappeared back into the hall, Draco and Hermione glared at each other sulkily. Hermione, of course, had known exactly how the positions of Head Boy and Girl were chosen: it was all in _Hogwarts: A History_ after all. It was also something you could easily spot if, like Hermione, you kept tabs on who filled the positions every year and what houses they came from. She had suspected she might end up in this position if she was chosen: with Malfoy as Head Boy. He blatantly ruled the roost in Slytherin house and was the only one with any hope of controlling them. Any other Head Boy certainly wouldn't have been able to control _him_. He glared back at her, looking annoyed and slightly murderous. He hadn't forgotten all their arguments and fights, especially those where he had lost. Their glaring contest was interrupted as the door swung open once more and Professor Dumbledore walked in.

"I am sure I need not remind you," he began, addressing both parties, "That this year, as for the past few years now, there is a great need for security within the castle. Therefore I am asking you both to refrain from reporting back to your parents _anything_ associated with your new positions: we wouldn't want any owls going astray and ending up in the hands of a Death Eater, now would we?" Dumbledore directed this last remark straight at Draco before adding casually: "Besides, I very much doubt you will have time to write home much. After all, you do still have exams to revise for and this new job will keep you both _very_ busy."

Draco and Hermione continued to glare at each other as Dumbledore reeled off a list of their duties for the year, summoning two small notebooks as he did so.

"These notebooks are enchanted," he told them, "to contain a list of your duties which will grow or shrink as I see fit, an automatically updating list of things you have to do, in priority order, and, at the back here, a page where you can add or deduct points from students as you see fit. It will only allow you to deduct points in increments of five to a maximum of twenty-five and it is monitored by myself so I shall know if either of you show any favouritism."

Hermione took the notepad the headmaster had handed her and looked at the back page. It was divided into quarters, each quarter displaying a house crest under which was a large zero. The bottom third of each quarter was separated from the upper part by a horizontal line, then divided in half by a vertical one. On one side of this vertical line there was a plus sign, on the other a minus, and beside each sign there was a space for writing in the number of points to add or deduct. As Hermione gazed at the page, she heard a snort of derisive laughter from Draco and saw the zero below the Gryffindor crest had suddenly changed to minus ten. She glared up at Draco.

"Don't look at me, Granger," the blonde boy drawled, "I didn't do it! I don't even know how to write in it yet!"

"You don't write in it, Mr Malfoy," Professor Dumbledore cut in before Hermione retaliated, "It writes for you. You merely have to have this open at this page and it will automatically tally the points you have added or deducted in the boxes provided, keeping a running score as you go. Each tally mark is worth five points, rather than the usual one point, and only those added or deducted by yourself will show up, and remain in, your book. However, if you turn the page, you will see on the second last page the same display, but this time keeping count of points added or deducted by your counterpart. If, by monitoring this page, either of you feel that the other is showing favouritism, or is being unjust in their distribution of points, you should go directly to the heads of your respective houses who will then, if they feel the matter requires it, bring it to me. Are we clear?"

Both parties nodded silently.

"Good. Then I suggest you hurry along and ask your house heads for the new passwords to your common rooms as the prefects will already have taken the other students back to their houses," Dumbledore said amicably, turning and heading for the door before turning back and saying, as an afterthought, "and perhaps you can find out, Miss Granger, which of your comrades angered Professor Snape _this_ time?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as the headmaster left the room.

"I bet it was Longbottom," Malfoy drawled carelessly, "Forgot he had to move his feet to walk or something."

Hermione scowled silently and headed for the door. She knew Malfoy would never have said such a thing to Neville's face nowadays, or, for that matter, when Ginny was within earshot. Neither of them were at all forgetful when it came to jinxes and Neville could deliver a particularly powerful curse when he wanted to. The extended practice as part of "Dumbledore's Army" had served them both well.

"Or maybe it was perfect Potter," Draco continued, following her out into the Great Hall, "Or maybe Weasley. I can't imagine what you see in him, Granger: it can't be looks, it's hardly talent and it certainly isn't money!"

Hermione hurried silently onward knowing any attempt to retaliate would only make Malfoy worse and, besides, it was getting late. She left him, still taunting her, by the entrance hall and hurried in the opposite direction, to Gryffindor tower, stopping off first by Professor McGonagall's office to find out the password and then being stalled with an effusion of congratulatory comments from the Fat Lady herself, looking resplendent in the new coat of paint she had received during the summer.

"Cobblers!" Hermione cried for the fifth time.

"Yes, yes, no need to shout," the Fat Lady replied indignantly.

As soon as she stepped inside, she saw why the Fat Lady had been so anxious to delay her. The entire common room was filled with streamers that waved by themselves, balloons that floated through the air turning various shades of the Gryffindor colours, gold and red, and a constant shower of ticker-tape falling from ceiling to floor, then magically disappearing from as soon as it hit the floor only to reappear at the ceiling and fall again. Pitchers of pumpkin juice sat on tables with goblets nearby and food covered almost every square inch of usable surface. In the centre of the room was its crowning glory: a tall, pyramidal tower of goblets stretching almost to the ceiling leaving only just enough room for the jug of what looked like butterbeer to hover over it, waiting to pour its contents down into the goblets.

"Don't touch, Colin!" Ginny was heard to yell as the elder Creevey brother reached for a goblet, "Wait until Ron's got them filled!"

Just then, one of the crowd noticed that Hermione had joined them and a huge cheer erupted. As Harry, Ginny, Neville and many others rushed forward to greet her and congratulate her, Hermione saw the jug of butterbeer wobble slightly and scanned the crowd for Ron's fiery head. Spotting him at last, she caught his eye and grinned. He grinned back, then turned his attention back to the jug and tipped it forward so that the contents rushed down into the waiting goblets. When all the goblets were full, Ron returned the jug to a quiet corner, out of the way, and pushed through the crowd to Hermione, almost knocking over Colin and Dennis Creevey as they rushed for the goblets.

"I saw it on one of those whatch-you call 'ems," he said, hugging his girlfriend and gesturing to the tower of goblets, "One of those telly-vishun things while I was staying at yours this summer. I asked your Dad what it was for and he said Muggles do it when they're celebrating something. I thought you'd like it."

Hermione smiled up at him.

"I do like it," she replied, "It's really sweet of you and it must have taken ages!"

"Harry helped," Ron admitted, "and Neville and Ginny... and Dean... and Seamus... and Colin..."

Just then, Ginny, who had been helping Neville dole out the goblets, hurried over with two of the golden glasses for Ron and Hermione.

"Here you are," she said cheerfully, "I'd better get back: if I leave him too long, Neville'll have the whole thing down on top of him!"

Hermione laughed a little as she watched the short, flame-haired and fiery-tempered younger girl hurry back to her, much taller, boyfriend's side and give him a quick peck on the cheek as if to apologise for speaking ill of him when his back was turned.

"I was sure she'd never give up on Harry, you know!" Ron sighed, watching his little sister, "But I guess she's a bit like Mum in that respect: she needs someone to be doing things for, looking after and all that. She knows Harry would never need her to do that, let alone let her. Neville's much more..."

"Haphazard?" Hermione suggested.

"Something like that," Ron agreed, nodding and sipping his butterbeer.

The party went on well into the small hours of the morning. After all, the entire Gryffindor house had never been together to celebrate the appointment of a Head Boy or Head Girl before: they had a lot of lost time to make up for. Eventually, however, the common room cleared, leaving the final year students and Ginny, then, at last, just Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"I'm off, guys," Harry announced, rising to his feet tactfully, "Early start tomorrow and all that."

"Yeah, goodnight Harry," Ron murmured.

Hermione echoed his words sleepily from her seat with her head on Ron's shoulder, glancing up and smiling at Harry as he left them, then returning her tired gaze to the fire before her in the hearth.

"Happy?" Ron asked quietly.

"Mm," Hermione replied.

"What?"

"Well would you want to spend the whole year working with Malfoy?"

"Fair point, but I bet he's even less happy about having to work with you."

"True," Hermione smiled and laughed a little.

She felt Ron's arm pull her a bit closer and looked up at him. He kissed her.

"Well done," he said.

"You said that already," Hermione smiled.

"Did I? Must be true then."

Ron grinned and Hermione returned the smile for a moment before remembering something she'd been meaning to ask.

"Who was it?"

"What?" Ron started, "Wh-who was what?"

"That lost Gryffindor the first points of the year? You or Harry?"

"Oh, that," Ron relaxed a little, "Oh, it was just Neville: he tripped up and fell into Snape."

"Bit harsh, ten points for tripping over!"

"Yeah, well, it was Snape and it was Neville. They've never got on."

"True."

There was silence for a few more moments.

"How did you know anyway?" Ron asked.

"How did I know what?"

"About the points."

"Oh, Dumbledore gave Malfoy and I these little notebooks," Hermione explained, pulling her booklet out of her robes to show Ron, "There's a couple of score charts in the back where we can keep track of the points we both deal out and take away. The back page is the points I control, the second-last is Malfoy's. Look: Slytherin are up fifty points already!"

"Don't worry, you can fix it in the morning," Ron said sleepily, kissing the top of Hermione's head as she frowned at the notebook, "I love you when you worry."

"I always worry!"

"I must always love you then," Ron yawned, half smiling.

Hermione looked up and smiled back at him, then kissed him again.

"I'm going to bed," she said, "It wouldn't do for the Head Girl to be late for class on the first day of term, now would it?"

"If you say so," Ron shrugged, "I'd walk you to your door, but the stairs would only kick me out again."

"Goodnight," Hermione laughed, rising.

With one last kiss, she turned and headed for the door, wondering, as she climbed the stairs, what this year would bring.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Look at this: I can't believe Malfoy!" Hermione muttered, aghast, as the trio walked to their double potions class one afternoon, a few weeks into first term, "He's just taken fifty points from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and twenty-five from Hufflepuff!"

"Why take less from Hufflepuff?" Ron asked, missing the point entirely.

"I thought you said he could only take up to twenty-five, Hermione?" Harry asked as they turned the last corner.

"In one go, yes. It doesn't stop him taking another twenty-five! Oh, and there go the other twenty-five for Hufflepuff: he must have run out of reasons for a moment."

"Didn't Dumbledore say you couldn't show favouritism?" Harry said soothingly, "He said he was monitoring your notebooks so that you couldn't cheat."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Why don't you take points from Malfoy?" Ron suggested, chewing a bread roll he had brought with him from lunch, "I'm sure I can give you plenty of reason to take the maximum from him."

"I'm sure you could," Hermione smiled, "but it doesn't work like that. For one thing: Malfoy would actually have to be here and therefore hear what it was he was losing points for, which would only make him ten times worse. For another you have to say the reason as well as the number of points and I just can't do that."

"What!" Harry and Ron cried in unison.

"It's not that I don't want to insult Malfoy," Hermione explained hurriedly, "It's that I literally can't. It's all in _Hogwarts: A History_. As soon as the Head Boy and Girl are given their duties by the headmaster, they are automatically placed under an enchantment that prevents them insulting one another. It's so that, whether the Head Boy and Girl like or loathe each other, they present a united front to any visitors to the school. There are a few other things as well, but mainly it means that I can't insult Malfoy, directly, and he can't insult me. Haven't you noticed: all his insults have been directed at you two, Neville and Ginny. Ever since he and I were given our duties."

"Well, you've insulted him!" Ron replied.

"No, you have," Hermione explained patiently, "I've just agreed with you. You can get round it in some ways, but it prevents Malfoy and I having a major screaming match in a corridor just as the new Minister for Magic or somebody walks past!"

"Dare I ask how far behind we are in points now?" Harry cut in as they reached the queue for Potions.

Hermione flicked the book open to the back pages once more.

"Hey, look at this!" she exclaimed, "Slytherin have gone down by a hundred points!"

"What?" Ron replied, peering at the book over her shoulder, "How?"

"It must be the anti-cheating thing Dumbledore was talking about," Harry muttered, "Who's this?"

Hermione and Ron looked up to find a tall, wiry man, walking towards them, dressed in a professor's robes. He had shortish, wavy hair that looked as if it couldn't make up it's mind what shade of grey it was turning and a slight bald patch that could easily be seen as he walked with his headbent forward, looking at the ground, as if deep in thought, or perhaps just checking to make sure it was still there. When he reached the door of the potions classroom, he stopped, turned a sharp right angle and walked into the classroom, straight through the door. The queue, which had fallen suddenly silent, stared at the still closed door in confusion. A moment later the door opened.

"Oh, sorry," said the unknown professor, quite as if nothing more unusual had happened than forgetting to cross a T or dot an I, "Keep forgetting about that. Do come in."

Still rather bemused, the class filed in. As they did so, Malfoy sauntered up and followed the last of the stragglers inside. Hermione glared at him. He smirked back at her.

"Now," the new professor began as the class took their seats, "today we shall be making a potion that is very much a favourite of mine. The ingredients are very simple and easily found in nature, this being one of the oldest potions known to wizardkind. What you must take care with here, you see, is not the ingredients, but the method. An important part of this potion is concentration. You must be entirely focussed on your aim or the potion itself will pick up on it and if it doesn't think you're paying it enough attention, it will sulk and refuse to work."

This speech provoked more than a few confused looks. After all, who had ever heard of a potion sulking?

"Before we begin, let me tell you a little about the history of this potion. It is from this potion that both Veritaserum and Polyjuice Potion were discovered. This potion is often used as an aid to Occlumency. It is also often used by those in the teaching profession to help them understand their pupils, however I do not believe it is used here at Hogwarts. Indeed, it is not necessary in the case of the current Headmaster, although I believe his one or two of his predecessors have occasionally used it to help decide how to settle arguments between students and, occasionally, staff."

"Oh, I know what he's talking about!" Hermione gasped quietly.

"You would!" Ron muttered, looking utterly confused.

"The potion I am referring to, of course," the professor continued, "is the Empathebrius Elixir. A single draught of this will give you a clear insight into the feelings and emotions of your fellow students, and everyone else for that matter. Effects last for up to one hour, depending upon the latent ability of the drinker. Natural empaths are rare, but Professor Dumbledore assures me there are no others in the school at this time, so we should be quite safe to test these potions ourselves. We shall complete the following today:"

The professor tapped the board with his wand and a series of instructions appeared. The class stared at them blankly, looking more than a little shell-shocked.

"Well, come on then," the professor urged them, "haven't got all day you know!"

"Please sir," Lavender Brown's hand rose into the air, "Who are you? Where's Professor Snape?"

"And how did you walk through that door?" Dean Thomas added, neglecting to raise his own hand.

The professor blinked at them a couple of times through his thick glasses.

"Oh, didn't I introduce myself? Dear me. Well, let me do so now: I am Professor Prospero Proctor and I shall be filling in for Professor Snape for the foreseeable future. Professor Snape has been called away to a family emergency. Let me say now that if any one of you calls me Professor Proctor, you'll be losing points: Professor Prospero will do."

"But how did you walk through that door, Professor?" Dean Thomas asked again.

"Ah yes, the door," Professor Prospero pondered, "I keep forgetting about those things. Yes, well, I have spent most of my years researching new potions and one or two of them have had some rather odd side-effects, some of which have proved more permanent than others."

There was a rather nervous ripple of laughter across the classroom as students wondered what other 'side-effects' Professor Prospero might be suffering from. Whatever they were, none of them seemed to have dimmed his enthusiasm for his subject and the lesson passed far more entertainingly than had Professor Snape been present.

"He's mental!" Ron exclaimed in a decidedly appreciative tone of voice as they walked back up the corridor after class.

"He's certainly an improvement on Snape!" Harry muttered, who, for the first time in his life, had managed to get through a potions lesson without losing Gryffindor any points.

"He is rather reckless, though," commented Hermione, "Don't you think so? I mean, he wants us all to test these potions on ourselves when they're finished. What if somebody wasn't concentrating? And what if someone reacts oddly to their potion? And besides, do we really want everyone in the class knowing what we're feeling?"

"He did say we were only going to let them brew for a week," Harry replied, trying to sound nonchalant but looking slightly worried, "They get stronger over time, but we'll be testing them in their weakest stages, so we shouldn't be giving away that much."

"I don't know," Hermione shook her head, "I've read a lot about the Empathebrius Elixir. It's strength depends as much on the power and concentration of the person creating it as on the length of time they let it brew once it's finished."

"Well, that settles it then," Ron said cheerfully, putting his arm around Hermione's shoulders, "You can tell us everything you find out from everyone else once the effects have worn off!"

Hermione tried to laugh at this, but still looked slightly nervous. Harry did his best to conceal a fleeting look of terror by perusing the duties listed in Hermione's notebook.

Dinner in the Great Hall was the usual affair, but slightly quieter: Malfoy had taken to deducting points surreptitiously from the other houses for making too much noise. Hermione, however, was finding her own method of combating this. Every time a jeer erupted from the Slytherin table, she deducted twenty-five points for heckling whoever. Everytime there was a roar of laughter, she deducted twenty-five points for, as Malfoy had done to the other tables, making too much noise.

"Oh, come on!" Ron whispered as Gryffindor went down another ten points for Neville dropping his fork, "How is that fair? Goyle hasn't even figured out what his fork's for yet!"

"I'm just glad Fred and George aren't still here," Hermione replied in equally hushed tones, "Can you imagine the amount of points we'd lose with those two around? They'd see it as a challenge! Winner's the first house past the zero points mark!"

"Well the only difference is that they're not setting off they're tricks themselves now!" Ginny cut in, "You wouldn't believe the number of 'Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' products there are doing the rounds!"

"I would if my last birthday present is anything to go by!" Ron said, a little louder than he meant to; the score for Gryffindor dropped another ten, "I don't even _know _where you buy invisibility cloaks! The only ones I've ever seen already belonged to Harry and Mad-Eye Moody. I can't believe I've got my own one now."

"Yes, well, don't tell the world, will you," Hermione hissed, "Look that's another ten gone: that's twenty you've lost us so far!"

The following week passed in much the same manner. On the Friday they put the finishing touches to their Empathebrius Elixirs and set them aside, clearly labelled as always, to brew. The next day, Saturday, was the first Hogsmeade visit of the year and everyone was trying very hard not to lose their concentration as they mixed, strained and bottled their draughts.

Saturday dawned bright and clear, with a brisk autumnal breeze blowing the crisp scent of fallen leaves through the air, not to mention some of the leaves themselves. After a late breakfast and some time in the library doing homework under Hermione's watchful eye, the trio, Ginny, Neville and Luna headed off for Hogsmeade.

"I do hope it's not going to rain," said Luna vaguely, staring up at the cloudless sky.

"What makes you think it's going to rain?" Ron inquired, visibly perplexed.

"You can see the hills in the distance," Luna replied, pointing, "My father says that if you can see the hills, it's going to rain."

"And what if you can't see the hills?" Neville asked, also now glancing up at the clear sky.

"Then it's already raining."

Thankfully, it did not rain. Nor did it snow or hail or sleet. In fact, there was no precipitation of any kind and Hogsmeade remained as dry as a bone as long as they were there. Once in the village, of course, the group split up and went in different direction, agreeing to meet in the Three Broomsticks later. Ron headed off to Honeydukes. Neville and Ginny headed for Madame Puddifoots. Luna wandered down a side street, saying there was little shop there that she got her Quidditch hats from. Harry looked around blankly and headed off in another direction entirely.

"Are you okay?" Hermione called after him.

"Yeah, fine," Harry called back, "Just going to go for a... a walk. See you later."

Hermione nodded, but looked worried. Ever since the death of his godfather, Harry had become increasingly distant. His anger had buried itself in sullen quietude but occasionally burst forth if provoked. When that happened, even Hermione was scared. She turned to the shop beside her: she had told Ron she would meet him in Honeydukes, but had to buy some more parchment, ink and a new quill first. Pushing the door aside, she walked into the quiet shop and began looking at the quills on offer. She had thought the shop was empty, but, hearing a movement behind her turned, expecting to see the owner. Instead, on his own for once, was Malfoy, emerging from behind the parchment stand.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"What are _you_ doing here?" Hermione snapped.

"What's the matter, Granger? Head Boy not allowed to buy parchment and quills?"

"Funnily enough I thought you might have someone else to do it for you, Malfoy. You know: like someone else does all your work?"

Malfoy opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the sound of the door opening to admit a noisy group of students. There were a few recogniseable faces in the group, but in its centre, standing head and shoulders above the rest, was Ron. His eyes searched out Hermione and, when they found her, his still-freckled face broke into a grin and he waved a bag of honeydukes sweets at her. Suddenly he noticed Malfoy standing beside her, frowning at him, and his grin faded as he frowned back. He pushed through the crowd to Hermione's side, placing a protective, but wholly unnecessary, arm around her shoulders.

"You okay?" Ron asked, his mouth full of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

"Fine," Hermione replied stiffly, picking up the parchment, ink and new quill that she had come in for hurriedly and walking away from the two boys to the counter.

It was a few minutes before Hermione got to the front of the newly formed queue and was able to purchase her equipment, but the two boys were still glaring at each other stolidly when she returned to Ron's side: Ron holding back because Malfoy was Head Boy; and Malfoy silently daring Ron to say or do anything about it.

"Come on," Hermione said, tugging Ron's arm, "Let's get out of here: it's too busy."

Reluctantly, Ron followed her out into the street.

"Only one more year and I can whack him without getting detention!" Ron muttered sullenly, "Hey, where's Harry?"

"Oh, he went off on his own somewhere. Probably the shrieking shack. That's where we first met Sirius and where we found out the whole story about him, Remus and Pettigrew."

"I thought he took it bad when Sirius died, but when Lupin bought it, he _really_ took it bad! Even after we got Wormtail! I think it's because they were really the last close link to his parents, you know?"

"Maybe. So much happened last year, I'm not sure what part of it got to him most."

"Well, at least a few good things came out of last year: Percy's back on our side; Fudge is no longer messing things up at the ministry; Ginny's got a decent boyfriend; and we..." Ron broke off, blushing.

"We became us," Hermione finished, smiling up at him.

"Look, there's Luna!" Ron said suddenly, changing the subject, "Hey Luna! It's not raining yet!"

"It will," Luna replied dreamily as she walked towards them, umbrella in one hand, bag in the other, "It will rain eventually."

"Can't argue with that," muttered Ron, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Hermione.

"Where are the others?" Luna asked, gazing up at the sky.

"Oh, Harry's gone off by himself and Neville and Ginny are at Madame Puddifoot's," Ron said conversationally, "or they were when I last looked."

"They'll still be there," Hermione giggled, "some of this stuff is for Ginny. She said she didn't expect to get round anywhere else today."

"Funnily enough, Neville asked me to pick up a few things from Honeydukes too," Ron sighed, "Since I was going in there anyway, he said."

"Should we go and find them?" Luna asked.

"We'd better give them a bit more time to themselves," Hermione replied, glancing up at a reluctant but resigned look on Ron's face as she did so, "Come on, let's go and see if Madame Rosemerta has any more gossip for us."

Together, the three spent a cheerful afternoon drinking butterbeer and catching up on gossip from the local landlady, Madame Rosemerta. After a couple of hours, they were joined by Harry, who sat at the end of the bar, in a corner, next to Luna, while he sipped his drink and said little.

Eventually, Ron shifted uneasily.

"Let's go and get them," he said, "It's almost time to head back to Hogwarts anyway."

"Okay, we'll go," Hermione sighed, looking round at Luna and Harry, "Are you two ready?"

"I'll just finish my drink, then catch you up," Luna replied, receiving a nod from Ron.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, looking along the bar into the darkened corner.

Without replying, Harry lifted the butterbeer bottle and shook it gently, then took a sip. Hermione glanced at Luna, watching Harry, and noticed that, for once, the girl's dreamy air was not apparent. Luna looked round and caught Hermione's eye, nodding seriously in understanding. Hermione nodded back and turned to leave, steering Ron out of the pub with her.

"What was all that about?" Ron muttered when they got out into the crisp, autumnal air, "All that stuff between you and Loopy Lovegood?"

"She's not half as loopy as you think, Ron," Hermione snapped, rounding on him, "If we left Harry there alone, he'd probably sit there drinking all night and wouldn't make it back to Hogwarts until tomorrow. Something that would lose us serious house points as you well know from the last time he did it! You haven't lost any of your family, thank goodness, and neither have I. Luna has. Maybe not as many of her family as Harry has, but more than we have. She and Neville are the only ones who can get through to him when he's like this. She'll stay with him and do her best to get him back to the castle. If Neville had been there, he would have stayed too, but he wasn't and we can't send him to help her because Harry would know we had sent him!"

"Oh," Ron said simply, "Then I suppose we'd better get along to Madame Puddifoot's and get those two back to the castle before it gets dark."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Monday morning dawned bright and clear with a crisp autumn breeze blowing through the open window of the girls' dorm in Gryffindor tower. Hermione made her way down the stairs to find Luna sitting in an armchair by the fire, dozing. As Hermione approached her, she stirred and woke.

"Luna, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked in hushed tones, "This isn't your common room!"

"I thought I should stay with him," Luna said dreamily, nodding at the sofa Hermione had just walked past, "Make sure he didn't go out again. I must have dropped off. There must be some soporixies around."

Hermione glanced round at the sofa to see Harry lying there sleeping soundly. She ignored the reference to soporixies: Luna had brought them up once before and explained that they were very definitely invisible, lazy, little pixies who liked warm comfortable places and whose snores, which were outside the range of human hearing of course, put the listener to sleep.

"How is he?" Hermione said, turning back to Luna.

"The same as usual," Luna replied calmly, "Now that you're awake, I'd better go before anyone else finds me here."

"Of course. Thanks Luna."

"Watch out for the soporixies."

"I will do."

Hermione watched Luna leave then turned to Harry. He was so soundly asleep that Hermione was sure he'd have a hangover if he woke up now. For a few moments she contemplated ways of keeping the area around him quiet, but eventually shrugged and shook her head. It was almost time for breakfast and she could hear other students moving about in the dorms up above. Soon they would also be in the common room and then it would be time to have breakfast, then time to go to class and first up on a Monday morning was potions, with Professor Prospero.

"Aquaeductus," Hermione murmured, sitting down on the side of the sofa and pointing her wand at Harry's face.

A jet of water shot out of the tip of Hermione's wand and splashed over Harry's eyes, nose and mouth and he sat up spluttering.

"Whazzup!" Harry said groggily.

"Breakfast time, Harry," Hermione replied, grasping his hands and pulling him to his feet as she herself stood up. "Come on."

Harry groaned, but followed Hermione out of the portrait hole as footsteps made their way down the dorm stairs. The Great Hall was still quiet when they reached it and Hermione ushered Harry over to the Gryffindor table and sat him down.

"Not hungry," Harry muttered.

"You have to eat Harry. Come on, Sirius and Remus wouldn't have wanted you to be like this..."

"Sirius and Lupin aren't here, Hermione!" Harry snapped, "That's part of why I _am_ like this!"

Hermione frowned, picking up on the wording of Harry's reply and ignoring its hurtful tone. She finished buttering some hot toast and handed it to Harry.

"Eat. Stop arguing or I'll put a silencing charm on you," she said, pulling a goblet towards her and flicking her wand at it.

A blue, shimmering substance flowed forth from the tip of her wand, filling the cup to just below the brim. Hermione picked it up and handed it to Harry, who was chewing his toast sullenly but obediently.

"Drink," Hermione ordered, once Harry had swallowed his last mouthful of toast.

Harry took the goblet and drained its contents. As soon as he had done so he felt his headache begin to lift and his stomach growled for more food. His temper also improved somewhat as the foggyness in his mind eased and dispersed.

"Sorry," he said quietly as Hermione poured herself some juice and buttered some more toast.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione replied, smiling at him now that he was returned to his 'normal' self.

"H-how did I get back?" Harry asked, a little shakily, "The last thing I remember is being in the Three Broomsticks with you and Ron and Luna. Then you and Ron left and I remember staying and drinking some more, but..."

"Luna brought you back," Hermione replied, "I don't know how, whether she knows the Gryffindor password or whether you managed to remember it, but when I came down this morning, there she was, sitting in an armchair by the fireplace. She stayed in case you woke up again during the night. We're lucky I'm usually up earlier than anyone else."

"Yes..." Harry's voice tailed off and he stared at the empty goblet in his hands.

"She cares a lot about you, you know. We all do."

"I know. And I appreciate it. It's just..."

"You don't have to explain."

Harry nodded, still gazing at his hands. Hermione went back to her breakfast.

"You should get some more food inside you," Hermione said after a while, as other early rising pupils made their way into the Great Hall.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, looking up and turning back to the table, "And thank you... for everything."

"You're welcome."

Not one to be numbered amongst the early risers of the school, it was merely ten minutes before class when Ron hurried into the Great Hall, shovelled down some breakfast while Hermione told him off for almost being late, then rose, satchel in hand, to accompany the others to their potions class.

"Well come on then!" Ron said, dragging Hermione to her feet, "You were the one who was worried about us being late!"

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes playfully at Harry as Ron led her out of the hall and off to class, with Harry meandering behind and eventually becoming lost in the crowd. Ron and Hermione reached the door to the potions classroom before most of the class and Hermione took the opportunity to tell Ron about finding Luna in the common room that morning. Just as she finished her tale, Malfoy sauntered up, followed closely by the other few Slytherins in the class.

"What's this?" Malfoy sneered, "Sucking up to the Head Girl, Weasley? Hoping she won't take off points for your cretinous behaviour just because she's your girlfriend?"

"Speaking of cretinous behaviour," Hermione replied waspishly, keeping a firm grip on both of Ron's hands as she did so, "I forgot to ask: did Crabbe and Goyle move up to NEWT level this year or not?"

Before Malfoy could reply, Professor Prospero bounded up the corridor, as enthusiastic as ever, and straight through the door. A moment later the door opened.

"Sorry! Sorry! Do come in!" Professor Prospero called from within, "Take out your books and collect your potions. They should have brewed nicely by now."

The gathering class hurried inside and followed their teacher's instructions, Ron collecting Harry's potion as well as his own and returning to his desk just as Harry himself wandered into the room and headed over towards him.

"Have I missed much?" Harry asked.

"Only the daily door trick," Ron replied passing Harry his vial of potion, "Where did you get to?"

"Just had to have a word with Luna. Two words actually: sorry and thanks."

"You have got to stop doing this mate. It's not good for you. Especially not now: anything could happen."

"I know. I'll try."

"Now then class," Professor Prospero began, bouncing up and down on his toes a little in the excitement of the moment, "we have a very important day ahead of us. I want you to follow the instructions on the board to put the finishing touches to your potions. We don't want our potions to open our minds to the whole class, that would be far too vague and there are far too many minds in this room. What we want to do is focus our potion. To do that, we need something of the person we wish to focus our potion on: a lock of hair will do, doesn't need to be much. Partner up now and swap a few hairs with your partner. Let's have the Head Boy and Girl up here to show us how it's done."

As Hermione, grimacing, trudged across the floor towards the professor, Ron and Harry shuffled closer together. As downcast as Hermione looked as she made her way to the front of the class, Malfoy could hardly be said to look happier and if anything actually looked worse. He shot a glare at Hermione as the two of them reached the professor, then turned back to the class, vial in hand.

"Now just pull out a few hairs," Professor Prospero instructed, "Same as with the Polyjuice potion."

Malfoy tugged at his silky, straight, silver-blonde locks, dislodging a few strands as he watched Hermione pull a few long, curly brown hairs from her own head.

"There we are," the professor continued, surveying the class as they copied their Head Boy and Girl, "Now swap the strands over... That's it. And add them to the vials. There we go."

Vials all around the classroom turned various different colours as their owners added the hairs and watched them dissolve in the transparent, slightly shimmering liquid within.

"Now give it a quick swirl... That's it. And just drink it straight down, all in one."

Professor Prospero Proctor watched as his class consumed their concoctions. On either side of him, Hermione and Malfoy gave each other another glare and did the same. For a moment there was no effect and Hermione glanced around the class to see what was happening with everyone else. In their usual corner, Harry and Ron seemed to be looking at their vials curiously. Nobody else seemed to have felt any effect yet either.

_Well, that was a waste of time!_

The thought came unbidden into Hermione's mind. What startled her so much was not that she disagreed with it, for up until that moment she would have been inclined to agree wholeheartedly, but the fact that she heard the thought in Malfoy's voice, as if the young man standing next to her had said it out loud. Hermione looked round at him, her eyes wide.

"Did you say something?" Hermione asked Malfoy carefully.

"No," Malfoy sneered. _Why would I bother?_

This time Hermione was certain. She had watched Malfoy's pale lips as he replied to her and he definitely hadn't voiced the comment after his negative.

_It was you!_ Hermione thought, directing the thought at Malfoy emphatically.

"I told you I never said..." Malfoy began, then stopped, his face turning even paler than usual.

_You can hear me!_ Hermione said, mentally, her head on one side as she watched Malfoy's face.

_Believe me I wish I couldn't!_ Malfoy's voice replied in her mind, his face betraying his shock at the revelation that the potion actually worked.

"Ah, good. I see some of you are beginning to feel the effects of the potion," Professor Prospero said cheerfully, watching similar facial exchanges between other members of the class, "It will take time to show its full potential, depending on the latent ability of each party, their ability as an Occlumens, and how well they know their parter, but we should all see the full effects arrive within about ten to twenty minutes. They should start to wane gradually after another twenty, finally disappearing after about an hour."

_You mean I've actually got to spend an entire hour with that bushy-haired mudblood invading my mind!_

_Hey, I heard that, ferret face!_

_What did you call me?_

_I do believe you heard me, Malfoy!_

_You can't insult me, remember._

_Apparently that only applies to what I say. When it comes to what I think, I can be as brutaly honest as I like!_

_Then the gloves are off?_

_The gloves are off._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Malfoy and Hermione spent the next twenty minutes hurling insults at one another as if there were no tomorrows. The effect of the potion grew stronger as they verbally fenced with one another through their private thoughts and feelings of hate and revulsion, magnified by their mutuality, seared through them. Eventually, Professer Prospero, having enthused with the rest of the class to his hearts content, turned his attention back to the Head Boy and Girl where they stood, glaring at each other, eyes locked.

"Er, yes," the professor said, hurriedly turning Hermione around and steering her back to her table, "Well, one can have too much of a good thing, it's said. Just concentrate on your friends for now. It'll wear off soon. You too, Mr Malfoy."

Hermione ignored Ron and Harry as she sat down at the desk and began picturing Malfoy's face in the grain. He was still arguing and throwing insults like stones, most of which were so worn out after the six previous years that they missed entirely and did nothing but fuel Hermione's own dislike of the boy.

Across the table, Harry and Ron were leaning back in their chairs, examining the vaulted ceiling and exchanging ideas on the many and varied uses empathebrius potion may prove to have in their endeavours around the school.

_Of course we'd probably never get away with using it in exams,_ Ron thought.

_Not much point unless we can persuade Hermione to take it too._

_Maybe she doesn't have to take it. If we just need to hear her thoughts, then she need never know! I can get a few strands of her hair easily enough._

The mental imagery of running their hand through Hermione's hair simultaneously ran through both boys heads.

_Woahhh! Falling!_

Harry stuck out a hand and grabbed Ron's chair before it toppled over completely. He leaned forward and brought both their chairs back down onto four legs.

_Maybe you should try not thinking about dating one of my best friends while we're sharing the same minds?_

_She's one of my best friends too!_

_You know what I mean._

_It does kind of make me glad Neville's not in this class!_

_Exactly!_

_But it's going to be be pretty difficult, mate._

_Ron, just try. Please!_

_Look on the bright side: it's only for another half hour or so!_

After a half hour that resulted in Ron being unable to look at Harry and Harry unable to look at Hermione without blushing, the three left the potions classroom. Hermione still kept her gaze downward, concentrating on something neither of her companions understood and having not said a word to either of them since drinking the potion.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked his girlfriend as they neared the common room for one of their many study hours.

"Fine," Hermione replied, her tones clipped, "I'll see you later. I've just got to..."

Without finishing her sentence, Hermione turned round abruptly and headed off in the other direction.

"What the... Where's she going?" Ron asked, turning to find that Harry had gone on ahead, through the portrait hole.

"I really couldn't say, dear," the fat lady replied, "It was as if her mind was somewhere else entirely!"

"Cobblers."

"No, really, she... Oh, I see, of course!"

Hermione hurried back down the corridor and up a flight of stairs that pretended to be a solid wall then turned into another corridor and came face to face with a painting of three young women in Grecian dress, dancing gaily round a tree. They stopped dancing as Hermione approached.

"Soap bubbles," Hermione said without looking up.

"He's in there already," whispered one of the dancers.

"I know. He said he would be," Hermione replied, "So open up and let me in!"

Dancers muttering indignantly, the painting swung aside and Hermione stepped through into the private bathroom of the Head Boy and Head Girl. She turned to place her bag and books on a table by the door as the picture swung back into place.

_Lock the door._

_Why? We're the only ones that know the password._

_Normally I wouldn't believe you, but I can tell when you're not lying with this stuff on the go._

_What happened? Why is it still working?_

_How should I know, Granger. You're supposed to be the genius here._

_As far as I can tell, the potion should work normally. I followed the instructions exactly. Did you?_

_Yes._ Malfoy turned towards her from the window he had been staring out of. _Of course I did. Do you really think I want you in my head any longer than necessary?_

_Likewise, Malfoy._

_Then what caused it?_

There was a flicker in their rejoined gaze and Malfoy suddenly crossed the gap between them.

_What are you hiding? You know something: I can tell!_

_It's nothing. Just an idea._

_Then tell me. You can't hide it forever. Not with this stuff letting me into your mind. I could use occlumency if I wanted to: father taught me some before he was taken._

_What makes you think I couldn't block you? Harry could easily have taught us at the DA._

_You're bluffing: I can tell. What's the point? We both want to know what's going on here and how to stop it._

_I suppose it could be a number of things. Our potions could have simply been stronger than the rest of the class: we are the best potion makers in that class after all. Or it could have something to do with something else. Some spell that's interacting with it._

_Like what?_

_I don't know. The only spell I can think of is the one that stops us fighting, but wouldn't that have the opposite effect?_

Malfoy pulled away from Hermione and leaned against the wall beside her.

_Not necessarily. I don't know what spell they use but it doesn't stop us from thinking the insults, just saying them. Believe me I've tried everything I can to break it!_

_Great! So it could be one of your haphazard experiments that's caused this!_

_This is NOT my fault!_

Malfoy turned to lean side on against the wall and glare at Hermione angrily.

_Whatever, Malfoy. I have work to do. I'm going._

Hermione leant over and reached out a hand to pick up her bag. Instantly, Malfoy's hand flashed out and grabbed her wrist before she could grasp the bag's handle. As soon as he did so, there was a bright flash and a buzzing ran through Hermione's head.

* * *

_A boy of about five years stood in a hallway, looking up at an unmoving picture on a wall. The colours were faded, as if in an old film, making the boy seem unnaturally, even deathly, pale. His white, flaxen hair was tied back into a short ponytail and his black, velvet suit cut a sharp contrast with his ivory skin._

"_Why doesn't it move, mother?" the boy asked a tall, slim, blonde woman standing nearby._

"_Hush, Draco," the woman said hurriedly, turning away from the painting she had been admiring and leaning down to admonish her son, "Father told you not to say a word while he was gone. He will be angry if he finds out that you did not do as he asked. You do not want your father to be angry with us, do you?"_

_The young Draco shook his head mutely, watching his mother with pale, grey eyes. Seemingly satisfied, his mother stood up again and, taking her son's small, almost translucent hand, she led him away to another part of the gallery. The paintings here were of unmoving objects: bowls of fruit; tins of soup; flowers; desolate landscapes._

_The next few minutes were spent in silence until heavy, hurried footsteps disturbed the peace and made their way towards the two. Narcissa turned her head as her husband strode towards them, smiling nervously._

"_Is everything well, my love?" Narcissa asked as Lucius Malfoy came to a halt beside his wife and young son._

"_As well as can be expected with such imbeciles in charge of the ministry!" Malfoy barked, heedless of the disdainful stares of the surrounding, art-loving, publicm "Let's get out fo this place. It's not good for the boy."_

"_As you wish."_

_Leading her still silent son by the hand, Narcissa followed her husband out of the National Gallery into the busy London street outside. They turned left, into an alley, then left again, then right and disappeared from view with two loud cracks._

* * *

Hermione's vision cleared gradually. She shook her head and raised her hands to her head, rubbing her eyes. Then she realised that the hold Malfoy had had on her wrist had gone. She looked up and glanced round. Malfoy was sitting on the floor of the bathroom, his back against the wall and arms around his knees, staring straight ahead as if in shock.

"There is no way that was down to one of MY experiments," he muttered.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Hermione lay on her bed, the covers drawn tightly around her not to protect from the chilly night air, magic prevented the temperature dropping too low in the dorms, but to comfort her confused and tired mind. She had tried to sleep, her mind exhausted from the days events, but whenever she did, her thoughts turned to Ron and shouts of protest would echo in her mind from the deepest depths of the castle.

_I don't want to know what you and Weasel get up to!_ Malfoy complained from the furthest reaches of the castle.

_I can't very well control my dreams, Malfoy!_

_You're the best witch in the school, Granger: I'm sure you'll think of something!_

_I thought you were the great Occlumens?_

_Apparently it doesn't work with this. I've tried. Believe me: I've tried!_

Eventually, exhaustion and dreamless sleep overcame the pair. In the morning, Hermione woke to a pale, grey day that made her already wan skin look even paler. The other girls in her dorm had risen and left before her making Hermione certain she was at least late for breakfast.

_Malfoy?_ Hermione thought tentatively.

There was no reply.

Breathing a ragged sigh of relief, Hermione rose, dressed herself and hurried down to the Great Hall. As she walked through the door, her eyes immediately sought out Ron, obvious by his height and flaming red hair. She hurried over to where he sat by Harry, with Ginny and Neville opposite.

"What happened to you last night?" Ron mumbled, his mouth full as usual.

"Hmm?" Hermione replied sleepily, helping herself to some toast.

"You disappeared! For the whole evening!"

"Ohhh, ummm, it was just some Head Girl stuff."

It wasn't a complete lie, Hermione told herself, but it was stretching the truth a little bit. Quite a big bit actually. Ron finished his breakfast and got up to go.

"So don't I even get a good morning then, before I go off to face the horrors of Herbology?"

"Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry!" Hermione cried, putting down her toast and rising to her feet.

Maybe it was overcompensating a bit, she thought later, but, ignoring the remaining students in the Great Hall, she threw her arms around his neck and planted a firm kiss on Ron's lips. For all her ardour, however, their lips had barely touched when a loud screaming in Hermione's head made her pull away suddenly.

"Wh-what's wrong?" Ron muttered, his ears turning pink.

"I... Um... I just remembered where we were, that's all."

_I'm still asleep! This is a nightmare!_

As clear as before, Hermione could hear Malfoy's thoughts rambling through her head.

_You're awake Malfoy. Now get up: it's nearly time for class!_

"Hermione, are you okay?" Ron asked, noticing the distracted look on Hermione's face.

"Fine, fine," she assured him, "Just a little tired. That's all. You'd better get going if you have to get to the greenhouses on time!"

Ron nodded, though still looking unsure, and headed off out of the Great Hall. Hermione watched him go.

_This can't be happening!_

_You've missed breakfast, Malfoy._

_That's the least of my worries!_

_Hurry up and get dressed!_

_Worried I'm going to miss my lessons?_

_Hardly! If you hurry up we can go and see Madame Pomphrey and maybe get this whole thing sorted without making ME late for class!_

_Oh, I'm touched!_

_Just hurry up and put some clothes on!_

_You'll forgive me if I seem somewhat startled: I never expected to be hearing a phrase like that from you, Granger!_

_I'll meet you there, Malfoy._

_And I'll be with you every step of the way. In mind, at least!_

Five minutes later, Hermione sat in the hospital wing with Madame Pomphrey giving her a running commentary of Malfoy's progress as he made his way through the ancient castle. She had already explained the situation to the school matron as best she could and had watched as the magical medic had sent her patronus, a small, silvery-white barn owl, off with a message. Whether the owl had been sent to Professor Dumbledore or Professor Prospero, Hermione could not tell, but it had passed Malfoy on the stairs a few moments ago.

"He's nearly here," she told the kindly older woman, "He's just coming up the last flight of stairs."

"Is he now," murmured Madame Pomphrey, watching Hermione as if she were about to turn into a werewolf.

A minute or so later, Malfoy burst in at the door, his cheeks tinged pink and his platinum hair uncombed and uncharacteristically tousled.

"I don't know what this thing is," he barked across the room, "but someone had better put a stop to it now. I don't think I can stand another minute of HER nagging!"

Malfoy glared at Hermione as he reached her.

"Yes, well..." Madame Pomphrey, for once, looked lost for words. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinised the pair closely. "I think I'll just go and check my books again," she sighed, turning away. "See if there's something I've missed perhaps."

As soon as the door of her office swung shut behind the matron, Hermione's head whipped round to face Malfoy. He was still glaring at her.

_I wouldn't have to nag if you would get a move on, Malfoy!_

Hermione glared back, meeting Malfoy's gaze with equal poison.

_I wouldn't sleep in if it weren't for someone's man-crazy thoughts keeping me awake all night! And about Weasley too!_

Hermione got to her feet and stepped closer to Malfoy, never breaking the mutual glare.

_I wouldn't be in such a rush this morning myself if someone else hadn't kept ME awake all night whining!_

_I wouldn't have been in such shock this morning if I hadn't been woken up by the thought of kissing Weasley!_

_Actually it was the thought of Ron kissing ME!_

Hermione shut her eyes and forced her mind back to the kiss in the Great Hall. She could hear Malfoy's complaints in her head as she replayed the kiss and her fantasy of how it should have gone had he not interrupted. The first part was exactly what had happened: she flung her arms around him and kissed him. Then came the fantasy part. She and Ron broke apart and this time it was he who initiated the kiss. It was an ordinary kiss, just the same as always between them, but then it changed. Suddenly, in some way Hermione could not pinpoint, it was different. She pulled away from the kiss and looked up into her boyfriend's face.

Hermione's eyes shot open and met an equally shocked pair of grey eyes looking down into her own. They were the same eyes she had looked into as she pulled away from Ron. Except it hadn't been Ron when she pulled away: it was Draco.

Hermione gasped and stepped backwards shakily, almost collapsing into her chair. She looked up at Draco. He looked as though he were about to faint. Suddenly, Madame Pomphrey came back into view, sweeping a chair under the young man as his knees buckled.

"What just happened?" Draco asked weakly.


End file.
